Beginnings
by Titan Transcendence
Summary: Mages are cursed and locked away in the Circle of Magi, feared by the masses and watched by the Templars. Vallen will outgrow these limitations and change from a man cracking under pressure to end the Blight, to the most powerful man in Ferelden.
1. One Night in Redcliffe

All recognisabel characters, lore and locations belong to BioWare, Vallen is mine.

Authers Note: This story is meant as an introduction to the character of Vallen Surana, who I intend to put in a lot of difficult positions in a post Blight/Awakening story I'm working on. I wanted to introduce the character and get his origin and Blight story out of the way saving me the trouble of tedious flashbacks, a plot device I'm not that fond of. Enjoy.

* * *

Blackness surrounded Vallen Surana, alleviated only by the pale flickering light of a single candle slowly burning before him. The elf mage sat cross legged and naked on the rug in his room at Redcliff Castle meditating, savouring the peace that had become almost nothing more than a memory in the last few months of hard toil, trying to align the myriad forces that called Ferelden home and brake the Blight.

In some respects the hardest part of the mustering had been done, having gone from just himself and fellow junior warden Alistair, along with the apostate mage Morrigan, he had gathered a band of skilled fighters to support him and gained the assistance of the forces of the Dalish clans, the Dwarfs or Orzammar, the Circle of Magi and at the very least the soldiers of the Arldom of Redcliff. Now was the bands first night on their return to Arl Eamon's Redcliff Castle for a few nights of well earned rest before they accompanied the Arl to the Landsmeet in Denerim, to confront the traitor Teryn Loghain Mac Tir and, hopefully, fully unite Ferelden and lead them in the war against the Darkspawn. This despite the fact that Vallen didn't have the slightest idea about marshaling forces, battle tactics for an army or the simple logistics of feeding 20 000+ men, women, dwarfs and elves on blighted land.

For now though, Vallen just let his mind wonder over the events of the last 6 months or so that had brought him to this place, both physically and mentally. He had been a young mage in the Circle Tower, the youngest to pass the Harrowing in several generations, and a favourite pupil of First Enchanter Irving. Then his only friend Jowan had proven to be a Blood Mage, but only after enlisting his friend's help in destroying his phylactery, thereby preventing the Templar's from tracking Jowan once he escaped from the Circle. And escape he did, injuring several Templar's, Knight-Commander Greagoir amongst them, along the way. Though Vallen was helping Jowan, he was also informing on him to Irving, all the while hopping he could find some way to get Jowans name cleared and alleviate the suspicions of the Templar's. How naive he had been back then. The resultant fall out of this little episode saw him accepting the offer to join the Grey Wardens as the best of a series of bad options. Then came Ostagar.

He could still taste the fear of that night, smell the fires of destruction that came with such a battle and most of all feel the tightness of the scarred skin where two arrows had pierced his right shoulder in the Tower of Ishal, life threatening wounds he had received only moments after lighting the beacon that was supposed to signal Teyrn Loghains charge into the flanks of the Darkspawn. Instead the Teryn turned traitor and ordered a full retreat, leaving his King and the majority of Fereldens Grey Wardens to their vicious end. Vallen couldn't remember being saved that night, though Flemeth claimed that he hadn't lost consciousness until they had arrived at her hut. The fear and the desperation though, that _never_ left him.

He remembered the days following his departure from Flemeths hut with fondness, a group of rag-tag adventurers gathered along the road, out on an impossible mission and with responsibilities that were so titanic in their proportions that they couldn't really be comprehended, and so weighed only on the back of his mind, a dark shadow behind them, cast by the bright sun before them. Even learning that, in a cruel twist of irony, Loghain had declared the Wardens traitors and placed a bounty on their heads had done little to dampen the groups spirits,not least because Loghains footpads would prove time and again to be rather inept. But their first visit to Redcliff changed all that in having to decide the fate of a young boy, possessed by a demon, and finding that his old "friend" Jowan was at the root of it all. Nothing fucks with the mind more than having to decide between three bad choices; killing a 10 year old boy, participating in a Blood Magic ritual that would save the boy, but kill his mother or leave to enlist the help of the Circle but allowing the demon to continue its reign of terror for days on end. The sobs and pleas of the arlessa, Isolde, begging for him to save her child still resounded in his head. In the end Vallen had left for the Circle leaving Sten and Morrigan behind to assist with anymore reanimated dead that might show up and hopefully keep a lid on the demons activities, knowing that whatever choice he made there was a chance people would end up dead.

The return to the Tower had been a huge shock in itself, with blood mages, demons and Abominations running amok and the Templar's ready to call for the Right of Annulment and butcher all inside. Having a Sloth demon mess with your head doesn't help matters either. In the end he was able to save the Circle and the boy, Connor, as well, much to Vallen's relief, and gaining the support of the mages into the bargain as well. Sitting here in the darkness, reviewing those first couple of months on the road, Vallen knew it was that time in Redcliff and his return to the Tower that did most to change him from the naïve, idealistic mage that walked down the Imperial Highway to Ostagar with Duncan to the battle hardened, road weary and almost gaunt looking realist that sat in front of a candle in a darkened room, glad to be alone with his thoughts and away from the drunken laughter of his companions down the hall (well, Oghrens was the only one certain to be drunken). All this backed up by the fact that he was a Grey Warden, which meant the unceasing whispering of the Darkspawn, usually unnoticeable during the day whilst his waking mind was on the move but they thundered through his dreams as he lay down to rest.

Of course, saving the Tower and Connor still left Arl Eamon on his deathbed. Cue another harebrained quest, this time to find Andraste's Urn of Sacred Ashes, of all things. Vallen still wasn't sure what was more surprising, that he took up the challenge in the first place or that the Ashes actually existed and possessed the restorative properties that legend spoke of. He still didn't believe in the Maker, or that Andraste was some kind of prophet, but he knew there was a lot he couldn't remotely begin to explain here, and with plenty of other, more pressing, matters on his mind, Vallen wasn't about to try. The irony at the end of all this was that the fully recovered Arl decided to let Vallen deal with Jowan. His initial reaction was to incinerate the Blood Mage, but he quickly realised that that wasn't justice, just spite, anger and blood lust, so he had Jowan handed over to the Circle so the Templar's could deal with him, knowing that he probably faced death all the same. Looking back now he wasn't so sure that that _was_ justice, and not just passing on the responsibility for the mages death, essentially washing his hands clean.

This left him and his motley crew marching on towards the Brecilian forest in hope of finding one of the Dalish clans. Vallen had to admit that he approached this portion of his journey with a great degree of curiosity, he knew all about the down trodden lives of the elves in the alienages of Thedas cities, and the elves of the Circle were in the same silk lined cage, watched like deranged villains by the Templar's, with all the other mages, but he knew little of his free cousins. What he found was a proud, nomadic people that took great satisfaction in being custodians of ancient elven lore, or what little was left of it. Their skills as hunters, woodsmen and craftsmen with the natural resources of the forest was exceptional and he knew that Leliana favoured her custom made Dalish armour over even the Drake Scale armour of Master Wade of Denerim, that ironbark was certainly tough. But he also saw that they were so heavily focused on retaining what fleeting pieces of knowledge from ancient Arlathan that they could scrape together that they stood still as a people with little social or technological development. In short, stagnant, almost a mockery of their claims to be the future of their people, leaving the elven mage with no clear view of them other than that they were in serious need of clear leadership as a people, since stagnation was all they were going to get as things are.

Of course, the clans didn't instantly jump up and shout "We will fight the Blight with you!". Oh no, that would have been too easy, and too much like common sense for there to have been any chance of it happening. He had to break a werewolves curse that was infecting this clans fighters. The long, roundabout trek through the woods led him to a powerful being called both The Lady and Witherfang, a spirit trapped inside the body of a great wolf and possessing a duel nature. In the end it turned out Zathrien, the clans Keeper, was several centuries old and responsible for the curse, both thanks too Blood Magic. The end result saw the death of both Witherfang and Zathrien to break the curse, but only after a protracted battle with the bitter Keeper to force him into ending the curse. To Vallen, the trip through the forest had felt like a wild goose chase (but with werewolves) to appease the bitterness of one old mans shrivelled heart. However, the little jaunt hadn't been a complete farce as he had discovered a potent ancient elven magic form that gave credence to the stories of Arlathan. Vallen could now rightfully claim to being an Arcane Warrior, one of the first in centuries, possibly longer. The result being that this mage walked around wearing the steel armour of Warden Commander Sophia Dryden from the old Grey Warden fortress of Soldiers Keep and wielding the sword and dagger of his dead mentor, Duncan, that he had liberated from the reanimated body of a dead Ogre when the group had returned to Ostagar to retrieve King Cailens armour and personal storage chest as well as to lay the dead Kings body to rest. However, just because he had learnt to channel his magical energies through his body to augment his physical self, to the point were he actively drew on the fade to empower his stamina, strength and agility, he was still a novice at combat with a blade and had spent almost every night since being trained by Alistair, Zevran and Leliana on how to wield a blade effectively. The result was that he was an extremely versatile warrior and his ability to perform both arcane and physical attacks now made him the most deadly of combatants on any given battlefield.

On gaining the clans assistance that just left the dwarfs of Orzammar and the 3 week slog across most of the country and through the Frostback mountains, picking up a free thinking golem along the way to join their group. Then there was Orzammar itself and learning that he and his companions would have the odious task of effectively deciding witch of the two pretenders to the cities unclaimed throne he would give the Paragons Crown to. This after a dangerous trek through the Darkspawn infested Deep Roads to find the Paragon, Branka, and the Anvil of the Void, the artifact that was responsible for creating golems. The decisions Vallen made that day still left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he needed a dwarven king to get a dwarven army. His choice had been simple, the xenophobic traditionalist Lord Harrowmont, who wished to enforce the ridiculously ridged cast system whilst pursuing an ever more isolationist policy, even going as far as to limit the entry to the city of topsiders, dwarf or otherwise. In the 1200 year war that the dwarfs had been fighting against the Darkspawn, right from the start of the first Blight, these policies hadn't served them well then and the 12 great cities of the old empire were now just the two estranged, failing powers of Orzammar and Kal'Sharock and so Vallen wasn't particularly inclined to place a king on the thrown that would continue to lead them down this road of a slow death.

Or there was Prince Bhelen, the third son of the late King who was clearly much more of a forward thinker with a strong desire to see reform within dwarven life and even utilise the castless to strengthen the people as a whole. An unthinkable taboo for most dwarfs within the cast system, but from Vallens point of view an obvious decision given the prodigious resource of Jarvia and her illicit carta. But the man was far from perfect, he was vindictive and petty with a vicious temper and a fierce blood lust who desired power above all. A difficult choice between slow death and tyranny. Vallen had even considered giving the Paragons Crown to Lord Helmi, who seemed to have a straighter head on than anyone else in that city but realised he would probably have been chased from Orzammar before the words could have left his mouth. So Bhelen it was, knowing that he wouldn't live forever and that his changes were likely to strengthen the dwarfs in the long run, maybe to the point were they could even consider reclaiming some of the Deep Roads. But Vallen hoped that he would never have to see the dwarven King again as he might just run his sword through him. And along the way he'd picked up yet another misfit, the drunk Oghren who just happened to be the most capable fighter Orzammar had to offer! Picking up strays was beginning to become quite a habit.

As his internal narrative caught up on events, Vallen turned his mined to the companions he now travelled with. He considered them all friends in their way, in truth his only friends given his unhappy life within the Tower, but he recognised that they were also a large part of the strain he felt when considered as a group, with the exception of his mabari hound, Grond (so named from a wolfs head battering ram that featured in an interesting fantasy novel he once discovered in the Circle Tower). In short, most of them didn't like each other and it was this constant attempt to keep a lid on the potentially destructive personality clashes between most of his companions, with Morrigan, Zevran and Allistair seeming to take great pleasure from antagonizing each other and their companions. Indeed, recently Vallen had had to step in on several occasion to prevent his friends from coming to blows, something he was becoming thoroughly fed up with and was no doubt adding to his surliness of recent weeks, as if saving the world wasn't enough. They made far better company when he talked to just one or two of them at a time. The ladies, Morrigan and Leliana, especially had given him many a pleasant evening whilst on the road as they related the tales of their former lives and how they had come to be here, though never at the same time and rarely within earshot of each other. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that he was of like mind with these two more than any of the others, despite the fact that they initially seemed to be complete opposites but found that their views were not always so very different and in the end tended to complemented each other, as long as you didn't include the subject of the Chantry in that.

The elf tried to force his mind to continue, to consider all of his companions, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't take his mind off of Leliana. The beautiful Orlesian Bard who was deadly with a blade and angelic with her voice, who carried herself with the air of nobility but without the self serving superiority, and a temper that was as fiery as her red hair. Vallen thought of the ease with which they talked, or more accurately, she talked and he listened, of the stories she told of the wider world, her unique belief that the Maker had not abandoned the world (a subject he only half heartedly contributed too, Vallen had long learned that debates on the subject of religion and the nature of gods tended to end heatedly and rarely swayed any ones opinion, so he tried to avoid them and focus on something more productive, like dinner). More intently he listened to her stories of her earlier life in Orlais, as one of the Bards, spies for hire amongst the nations narcissistic and bloated nobility. Despite the gravity of the situation he found himself in, he couldn't help but feel his heart quicken and his mood lighten as his memories roamed through all he knew of her. To himself Vallen made no secret of the fact that he cared deeply for the woman, but cursed his laconic manner and lonesome life as he found he had no way to express his feelings to her without feeling the fool, and in truth he was afraid of her rejection. She was older by several years, though far from being old, and far more knowledgeable both in matters of the world around them and in matters of love, making no secret of her lascivious past to him. How does a novice stand up to be recognised in such matters with a master?

Vallen could also get no hint that she might remotely feel the same way about him, not that he would have recognised the hint if it had hit him in the face with the flat of Sten's greatsword! What he had also noticed was Leliana's seemingly increased friendliness with the assassin Zevran and with Alistair, though he could admit to himself that jealousy might be playing a part here. More importantly he valued the friendship he had built up with the redhead and didn't really want to lose that, particularly given the difficulties he had sorting out the clashes between everyone else. In the end, he procrastinated, not knowing what to do.

Sighing, Vallen refocused his mind, not wanting to get stuck on one subject and so let his mind wonder, trying to capture that peace that he knew he would need to be at his best for the trials to come.

* * *

Leliana made her way down the dimly lit corridor in Redcliff, making her way towards Vallen's room, and thankful to be in a dress rather than the same set of leather armour that she had spent much of the last 6 months in!

"Ah, such luxury is a bath and comfortable shoes, I will miss them when we are on the road again" she quietly mused to herself.

Despite her lazy thoughts, Leliana actually had a reason for coming down here. It had not escaped her notice that Vallen was becoming increasingly reticent and surly, as likely to snap as smile at someone, as the weeks passed and the pressures of uniting Ferelden and defeating the Blight increased on an almost daily basis. Her amazing powers of observation had been honed in The Game back in Orlais, where a sharp eye and keen mind were needed to find the smallest chinks in the political and social armour of her targets so noticing her friends changes were no great challenge. But it still worried her.

She enjoyed the company of Vallen, someone who was so refreshingly... innocent, who's motivation in stopping the Blight wasn't remotely self serving or egotistical. His open mind, hungry for knowledge of the world around him, made him a great listener and Leliana had plenty of stories to tell, which had even led to her divulging a lot of information about her former life, something she had never remotely meant to do when she joined the obviously apprehensive Wardens back in Lothering. Though hardly a loquacious man, usually just offering a comment or two in reply to what ever was being discussed with him, Vallen had been able to ask searching questions of her without ever offering judgment on her actions, something she carried enough pain over as it was. But their late night talks when they had the last watch and were trying to stay awake had formed a close bond between them, a bond that was solidified when he helped her deal with Marjolaine when the self obsessed bitch had sent assassins after her. The mage had had no real reason to put himself on the line for her as she could have been easily sent away to avoid further attacks on the party. But no, he had offered to go with her and confront her former lover in Denerim on their last visit to the city and had even spoken up in the defence of Leliana's character. It was that moment that Leliana realised she had found someone that cared for her for who she was and asked nothing in return, expected no favours, no services rendered and certainly didn't make demands of her, in short a true friend, something the bard found very touching.

Of course, she had also noticed that close proximity and physical contact between them whilst alone and attempts to pry into his private life in the Circle Tower where met with a nervousness that she wasn't used to seeing in him. The woman suspected that Vallen's feelings for her might extend beyond simple friendship and his youthfulness held him back in expressing himself to her. But she knew that her responsibilities as a friend meant she would have to try and push past those barriers to help as he fought to withstand the pressures on him. She also liked the elf enough to consider that a closer relationship would be no bad thing at all.

Upon reaching his door she rapped lightly but was met with no response, "Vallen?" she quietly called as she knocked again, slightly harder this time. Once again she was met with silence. It was early evening so he was unlikely to be asleep and his terse remark about needing rest as he left his companions earlier suggested he hadn't gone out from the keep. Quietly she turned the handle on the door and pushed it open.

Inside she was greeted by almost total darkness, but quickly noticed the low burning candle shedding only a modicum of light, barely illuminating the meditating mage sat cross legged before it. Carefully Leliana closed the door quietly and made her way over to Vallen.

He could sense the presence of someone else in the room moments before he felt the soft hand with callused finger tips, from regular lute playing, that could only mean Leliana, but he still started at the unexpected touch.

"Vallen, are you alright?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm and sitting down on his right side, quickly realising that he wasn't just shirtless and that pointing this out might not be such a good idea.

"Err... y-yes, sorry I wasn't expecting any company." he managed to stutter out, looking down at himself and cursing his own state of undress and the fact that there was a candle right in front of him making it rather obvious.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark, all alone on the first night of comfort any of us have had in a long time? Do you not want to join us in enjoying this short rest?"

Vallen paused, he could tell that she was trying to get at something but he wasn't sure what, and given how perceptive she was, his initial thoughts of being evasive probably wouldn't work. So the truth it was.

"No." he sighed "I am tired and in no mood to make myself acceptable to company. So I am here meditating, gathering my strength as we soon head to Denerim to face Teyrn Loghain, and after that the Archdemon. The darkness just helps me block out distractions."

"You need to relax whilst you can, you bear a great weight for all of us as saving Ferelden is no simple matter, to which the scars you carry attest. Me, I intend to make the most of our stay her in Redcliff and ease my tired limbs. Reminding myself of the more pleasant aspects of life wont go amiss either." Leliana pointedly added this last remark, trying to get a rise from Vallen.

"You think I need to relax? That I have become too focused on the act of killing, whether it be bandits, Darkspawn or Loghains footpads?" Vallen responded, somewhat defensively.

Leliana knew that now she would have to take the plunge, hoping that she wasn't pushing too far and that the elf would see her point and continue, and not criticism and close up. "Killing, no, but saving Ferelden, yes. We have all seen the changes within you on our journey and though you have truly risen to the challenges before you without loosing sight of your principles, you are no longer the easiest of people to work with. A reminder of the joys of life whilst we have this chance may do you good, yes?" She finished this by placing her hand on his shoulder, touching the scars from his arrow wounds, a clear reminder of just how much this mage had been through, and inadvertently also making him tense up. Leliana saw this as a chance to move on to more prying questions, so in a coquettish tone she began.

"Why do you tense up so when I get close to you? I promise I wont bite, well, unless you want me to. Are we not close, you certainly know far more about me than probably anyone else alive. Come, you can share your thoughts with me."

Vallen looked away and blushed, hesitating, unsure of what to say. He looked around and fully realised that it was just the two of them, alone in his darkened room with just a single candle for light. He decided there and then that he would do just as she asked and make his thoughts known, and hoped for all he was worth that it went well.

Shifting uncomfortably he turned and looked Leliana in the eye "It's because I love you Lel, I... I have just never known how to say it".

Leliana had suspected as much, but still to hear it out in the open from him made her heart flutter. Silly girl, she thought, but I do care so much for this elf. She responded the only way she knew how, by leaning forward and kissing Vallen. It was a light kiss, but it spoke volumes of how she felt for him as well.

Surprisingly, even to himself, Vallen didn't tense at her touch and allowed himself to revel in the moment, but soon turned away, his eyes unfocused, seeing the lonely past that he had known and questioning whether he should let this women who had taken his heart in to this very private core of his being, afraid of the rejection that may follow. Leliana saw the look in his eyes and knew that it was memories that held his attention.

"Please Vallen, let me in, tell me what is it that haunts you?".

Turning back to look at Leliana, Vallen realised that no internal debate was necessary, he had already made the decision to tell her the secrets of his life before she even kissed him.

Placing his hand in hers, Vallen looked at the candle and began his tale.

"There is no great singular event in my past that has left me scarred, no terrifying horror I have seen in my childhood. I was born in the alienage in Denerim and, I am told, was a quiet child, rarely crying or shouting about like the other children. My magical abilities also developed very early in life, I was but 6 years old when the Templar's came to take me to the Circle Tower. Most children that are brought to the Tower are about 10 years, some a little older, some a little younger, but rarely is one as young as me taken there. Because I was so young the Senior Enchanters decided against teaching me how to directly control magic by casting spells, but limited it to exercises of discipline so that I wouldn't become a danger. They also began to teach me in earnest how to read, write and count. I proved adept, with a hunger for knowledge, and by the time I was 8 I could read and write in not just Ferleden, but in Old Tevinter as well."

"It is my guess that at this point First Enchanter Irving took an interest in me, seeing a mage that he could groom from childhood to become a First Enchanter at some point in the future. So at the age of 8 I was thrown headlong into my studies of the Fade, and I proved to be as adept as the Enchanters thought I would be. All very well and good, but the downsides of this are numerous."

"With my proficiency came great expectations that I would succeed in learning all 4 schools of magic to a great extent, and the usual fear and suspicion from Templar's that I would learn the fifth school Blood Magic, and in some cases learn them quickly and so I was put under pressure to do so, with the usual punishment to apprentices that fail to complete their work on time being meted out to me if I ever failed to live up to these expectations. However, I quickly found myself being taught with other apprentices that on some occasions were as much as 5 years older than me. At first the other apprentices looked down on me as a child, which I was, and then with envy and even jealousy as it became apparent just how advanced my natural abilities are. The result was that the other children weren't so quick to seek my friendship, or accept it, and of course they saw the extra tuition I was receiving and the large workload I had to deal with outside of classes and realised that I had little in the way of free time to myself anyway."

"Then of course other children my own age were being brought in to the Circle Tower as their abilities manifested themselves, and I never had much chance to spend time with them because of the pressure I was under and the fact that I was becoming a highly trained mage may have been intimidating, it certainly was for me. Plus, being an elf in a predominantly human society and being obviously so much better than the human children who had only just been brought to the Tower was never going to help."

"I thought you said racial problems were not so bad in the Tower?" Leliana interjected.

"After a few years they're not, as our talent for manipulating the Fade becomes a large factor in social standing for the apprentices and with the mages we are all united in our dislike of the Templar's, to a greater or lesser degree. But children arriving at the Circle Tower for the first time will be used to seeing elves live in squalor in the alienage or running around as servants in the city or in the larger homes. Equality with elves is a largely foreign concept." said Vallen.

"Anyway, to continue with my tale, I don't think I did myself too many favours on the few occasions I was asked to help tutor another apprentice in one area or another. Some felt insulted that they were being shown how to perform a spell by a young boy, or an elf, with most I just proved that teaching is definitely not my strength. As for matters of love, I was definitely out in the cold on that. The girls in my own class were all much older than me and were more interested in the older apprentices and the newly Harrowed mages, those my own age I rarely had much contact with outside of meal times, and even then I was distant from most of the other apprentices. Jowan was the only friend I ever had in the Tower as his abilities certainly seemed to take quite a jump in those last few years and he became the best of the other apprentices so we found ourselves working together more often. Now I realise that his friendship with me could have acted as a cover against recrimination from others since his jump in ability was all because of Blood Magic and he would have needed something to deflect that, like the idea that I was teaching him."

"The point of this long, sad tale is that you should know that, though I am just past my 20th year, I had never had a _true_ friend until I met Alistair in Ostagar. And before I met you, I don't think I have ever had strong feelings for anyone, and so I have sat in our camps, night after night thinking about you, trying to find something to say that would impress you, to make you take notice of me the way I want you to. Silver spooned Zevran doesn't know how lucky he is!" As Vallen finished his tale he found that he couldn't look Leliana in the eye's again, so settled for looking straight ahead and mulling over the memories of loneliness he had just dredged up.

Leliana watched Vallens face and could see him slip back into his brooding. She couldn't help but empathise and sympathise with him after such a tail of loneliness, but she didn't feel sorry for him as the sacrifice of a more normal adolescence, if any a young life in the Circle of Magi could be considered as such, was the great power that he now wielded against the Darkspawn horde, and soon the Archdemon, and more importantly was that he was now surrounded by friends. More than that, he now had her. This elf, who had little experience dealing with people and their complex social interactions, who had spent months listening to all her tales, and offering support when she needed it as her past came back to haunt her, had now confided the truth of much of his young life to her, something he had shared with no one else. She loved him, and decided to make sure he knew it. Placing her left hand on his shoulder, she deftly unlaced the bodice of her dress and quickly swung her legs round to sit astride his lap with her arms around his neck. Then she kissed him, hard and passionately. It lasted mere moments, but to each it felt like years. When she pulled away and saw the shocked expression on his face she couldn't help but giggle, and continued to smile while she talked to him.

"You were not expecting that I see. You may not have Zevrans talent for small talk but you are honest and caring and I trust and love you for it. Hmmm... I see that our sword training has worked wonders on you." She said, carefully running her fingers lightly over his toned muscles.

"Er... ha, it helps with the armour, I can't rely on magic for everything!" Vallen said, finding his voice after the initial shock and gaining confidence.

Reaching down between them, Leliana quickly removed her smallclothes, locks weren't the only things her fingers could get through quickly and deftly, and then began to fondle Vallen. As she slid herself down upon him, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear "Its just the two of us, in a quite room with a comfy looking bed, now help me out of this dress and lets make the most of the free time we have."

Vallen didn't hesitate.

* * *

Later, as they lay together, panting but sated, Leliana asked him "That wasn't your first time was it? Most virgins tend to have a hair trigger."

Vallen looked uncomfortable as he responded "Uhm, no."

Liliana's eyes alighted and she asked "Really, do tell?"

"You remember our first visit to Denerim, where Sergeant Kylon asked us to take care of a problem with mercenaries at The Pearl?"

"Yes, you Zevran and Sten went along to deal with it while the rest of us resupplied." said Leliana.

"Yes, well, after we had chased off the mercenaries, I decided that I would see what the Pearl had to offer, as it were."

"Had to offer? Don't tell me you paid for your first time!" exclaimed Leliana.

"Yes, seeing as I thought I had no chance with you I thought some experience is better than none, even if it was with a whore."

"Well, I hope they gave you some one nice for your first time." said Leliana in a distinctly playful tone.

"Yes, a lovely young elven woman. Now lets get some rest, we have 3 more days to spend together without any responsibilities weighing us down, and I intend to make the most of them." said Vallen as he lay back and contemplated how much his life had changed in one night, and this time definitely for the better.


	2. Reaching Val Royeaux

A knife pocked out through the large, rough cloth sack and sawed down leaving a large gash before disappearing. A man wearing a dark grey cloak and black reinforced leather armour fell out in a controlled roll, ending on his feet and looking about the dark room. Nobody in sight. Sounds of revelry filtered in from down the hall. He made his way to the door and carefully opened it a crack to look out. Again, nobody in sight. This was turning out to be too easy. He made his way quietly down the hall to the brothels large entertaining suite, to his target. Further sounds of revelry floated up from the floors below and mixed with the sounds from the few occupied suites on this floor. He knew he had to be quick, being spotted before he'd completed the contract would be sloppy.

Opening the door to the suite, he found a large, ostentatious setting, with grand furniture and exotic plants in pots. Perfect for hiding places. He concealed himself away in a corner out of sight and waited. The sounds of wild fucking came from the bedroom, evidently the target liked to pay for more than one woman at a time. He continued to wait in the low candle light that filled the room, but made the shadows deeper, and altogether darker for what they contained.

After holding his position for half an hour the door opened and the complimentary tea girl came in, barely more than a child but already working in a brothel, if not exactly 'performing' in one. The noises of from the bedroom had quietened some time before but she still went in without knocking. A few minutes later she came out, minus the tray, followed by the two whores. "Excellent, no witnesses to worry about" he thought. To be on the safe side he continued to hold his position.

The assassin had meant to wait for another half hour to make sure all was quite and he could get the jump unexpectedly, but after only ten, the fattest person he had ever seen came out of the bedroom wearing a house coat and smoking a pipe. He momentarily felt sorry for what the two whores must have endured, but pushed it aside. The fat man stood with his back to him, offering a perfect target. Quick as a flash, and quiet as death, the assassin leaps from his hiding place, drawing his poisoned knife, and charges at the man, leaping at the last second to land on his back. His left hand curls round the fat mans face and covers his mouth, stifling any cries, whilst his right hand simultaneously plunged his blade into the mans right kidney. He holds on and plunges the blade in once more as the fat man goes down, a quick, quiet kill. Now to get out.

Pausing only to wipe his blade and replace it in its sheath, he runs for the door flat out, pulling it open and rushing out, bowling over a servant elf woman on the way, before dashing to his right and sprinting for the window, the opposite way he had come from, no sense in making it easy for anyone that might be pursuing, or even investigating. He silently curses his luck as he races down the corridor, chased by the servants scream over the dead body, he'd hoped it would take a little longer for the proprietors to discover his calling card. With an ease of long practice he flips the window open and climbs out, hardly stopping. "Gotta' love Orlesian architecture of the last few centuries" he muses "not a stone left unworked and plenty of handhold's for the likes of me."

A few minutes latter he jumps down into an alleyway several streets over and begins to walk to the street, and back to his lodgings, only to stop at the sound of slow clapping. A short, wiry man in none-descript clothing steps out from a darkened doorway, holding both his hands up, showing them empty, a sign of none aggression. "May I congratulate you on a job well done, ser." he says in high, slightly wheezy voice The assassin just stairs at him, considerably unnerved by this turn of events and considering an exit strategy. The newcomer continues to watch him as well, until it becomes clear that the assassin wont respond. "My name is Prost, and you have proven yourself very adept, to the point that I am going to offer you a job, and we, that is to say my benefactors and I, can pay quite a lot." He continues to stare at Prost, knowing there's more here than meets the eye, there always is, so he growls out one word in response "Details?"

Prost answers back quickly "A woman and an elf, not a servant, foreigners, arriving by boat from Ferelden in a few days, need to be killed quickly and quietly. We'll pay 500 sovereign each. Further details and payment, half now and half on completion, to be made by your usual arrangements."

The assassin doesn't want to know how this man would know those arrangements, but he's being payed more than three times his usual fee, so he wont complain, for now at least. He nods his head in agreement and turns to leave.

Before he can go, Prost shouts to him once more "Wait, what do I call you, I'll need a name for my benefactors."

He stops and turns his head to regard the man, then growls once more "I have no name. But people call me The Silent Man."

"Why's that?"

The Silent Man turns and leaves.

* * *

The spring sunset was captivating. The reds, yellows and oranges of the flaming sun shone brightly, bathing the surrounding city, river and the sea out beyond in a majestic glow. It had been two months since the end of the Blight and Vallen, having finished with the moral boosting public appearances that Queen Anora had asked him to perform for the beleaguered Fereldens, was finally able to get away. He and his love Leliana had come to the Orlesian capital, Val Royeaux, only the day before, ostensibly so that he could meat with the Orlesian Wardens and prepare for rebuilding the Wardens within Ferelden, but also Leliana wished to confront her old lover and mentor, Marjolaine, one more time and hopefully put the bad blood between them to rest. Vallen certainly hoped it wouldn't require them taking the phrase "burying the hatchet" too literally. A break from the near endless fighting of the last year was definitely the main reason for their journey to this city.

Vallen now stood in the roof garden atop the inn he was staying at with Leliana, looking across the glowing golden city, his thoughts strayed back to the Blight. The titanic battle on the roof of Fort Drakon still dominated his thoughts, largely regarding the fact that he and all of hi companions had survived somehow whilst so many of the dwarfs, Dalish elves, Redcliffe Knights and Tower magi had died during the struggle throughout Denerim. What surprised Vallen most was that he was actually alive, given that he had taken his blade Starfang, named for the meteor metal it was made from, and forced it through the skull of the Archdemon, Urthemiel, with unnatural strength, drawn straight from the fade by his ability as an Arcane Warrior.

It should be that the Grey Warden who slays the Archdemon dies in the act, the joining of the two souls obliterating both. However, in his last night in Redcliffe castle, Vallen had agreed to Morrigans ritual and slept with her, fathering a child that would draw in the Old Gods soul as its twisted body died and join the two souls, re-birthing the Old God free of the Darkspawn Taint. Regardless of whether he believed the Archdemon really was an Old God of the Tevinter Imperium or not, and Vallen certainly had his doubts on that score, didn't matter anymore. He was alive where every other Warden that had landed the killing blow to an Archdemon had died.

Vallen remembered that night with Morrigan vividly, and his emotions of that night still left him confused now. He had willingly participated in that ritual for one reason, and one alone. He did not want to die, at least not without any choice in the matter, and it wasn't in his nature to pass off the responsibility for the fatal blow to Alistair or Riordan, though he could fully accept that one of them could very well get there ahead of him anyway. No, he had just discovered what life was really like thanks to Leliana and knew that there was a lot more out there to see than just Darkspawn hordes, he did not want to die when he had so much life left to explore.

The fact that he ended up thoroughly enjoying his one night with Morrigan left him feeling more than a little guilty. Yes, it was supposed to save his life, but he was devoted to Lel completely and didn't like to think that he could turn away from her and find so much pleasure in the arms of another in the blink of an eye. He remembered that it was difficult to look her in the eye the following morning as they prepared to ride to Denerim, and that little smirk Morrigan wore didn't help matters. Her vindictive side was the one thing he didn't like about her.

He supposed she was off to somewhere like Tevinter now, and that her pregnancy would soon be starting to show with that flat stomach of hers. At least he believed she was pregnant considering the fact that he was alive. Morrigan had disappeared the day after that last battle. She had taken a night to rest from the exertions and then was gone without anyone noticing, though he suspected that no one but his little group would have missed her. The masses had spent the last millennium being told by the chantry that mages are cursed and evil waiting to happen. Cheering on the success of a Grey Warden mage was one thing, but applauding an apostate was quite another. This left him with the hole deep in his chest at the thought that his child would grow up without him, that Vallen would probably never even meet him, or her.

As Vallen continued to stare at the slowly fading sunset, Leliana crept up silently behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, noting that he didn't even flinch at the sudden contact, and glad that they were almost the same height so she could lean her chin on his shoulder with ease. "Enjoying the view, my love?".

"Indeed I am Lel, Val Royeaux is an amazing place, so much bigger and more colourful than Denerim." Vallen answered, fully shaken from his thoughts in the presence of his lover.

"You know, all around Thedas, Val Royeaux has been named the City of Splendour, and with a sight like this its not hard to see why. Speaking of sights, do you know you look absolutely _regal_ in these new robes, the black and midnight blue suits you well." Leliana remarked.

"I'm glad you like them, especially since you directed the tailer for me and considering the outlandish price I paid for them, I mean they're not even enchanted!"

Laughing, Leliana shot back "would you prefer leather then?"

"I seem to remember you liking leather."

"Oooh, naughty, but speaking of leather, the sun has gone down so would you wish to join me in our bed chambers now?"

Vallen didn't reply, he just turned round and kissed her passionately, Leliana took that for a yes.

* * *

Leliana awoke slowly to see the sun streaming in through the drapes on the windows. As her mind came to consciousness she realised what it was that had woken her. Her elven lover was tracing patterns along her back, the patterns of her scars, the older ones earned through torture in particular. She felt herself shudder at the memory of how she gained them an rolled over, exposing her pert breasts to Vallens eyes, though with sex far from either of their minds.

"I wish I could be by your side for this, I don't trust Marjolaine in the slightest."

"You have Grey Warden business to attend to, besides I will accompany you to the Warden House today anyway. Songs of their deeds is something I am definitely short of. Anyway, Marjolaine is scared and paranoid, and the longer someone is in such a state the more mistakes they make and the more predictable they become. And I'm not even out to kill her."

Lying back Vallen sighed "You're as headstrong as I am, so I doubt I could persuade you to change your mind. I just wish I could guaranty I would be there to back you up if you needed it."

"I know, but don't worry so much this is my area of expertise, I was a master at it remember." And with that Leliana got up and began to dress for the day.

Vallen just whispered quietly so that Lel wouldn't hear "So was Marjolaine." then got up and began to prepare for the day.

* * *

Vallen and Leliana rode their hired horses across the city to the Grey Warden compound. As Vallen was on official business for the Wardens he wore his Grey Warden mage robes, essentially just Enchanters robes with the Grey Warden Griffon stitched onto the shoulders, Leliana simply wore a cream and red dress, serviceable for out door use and not the silks she would have preferred to ware. Of course the concealed daggers were, well, concealed. The journey was quicker, and more uncomfortable, than Vallen was used to never having had much prior opportunity to ride horseback on his journeys around Ferelden. Admittedly the most uncomfortable aspect of the journey was the numerous groups of Templars he passed, offering him suspicious and hostile glares. A highly respected mage, a hero no less, was not something they were used to seeing, or happy to see either.

The Warden compound was a large, two story building, low for Orlesian architecture of the last few centuries, but had two wings extending far back creating a squared U shape, concealing a courtyard at the rear of the building and leaving a parade ground at the front. A 10 foot wall surrounded the whole complex, with a manned gatehouse the only entrance at the front, and a service entrance to the rear courtyard. Warden House, as it was known, radiated strength and competence, making it clear that The Game was not for them, that they were survival for all of Orlais. Upon viewing the building for the first time, Vallens thought "Vigil's Keep will need a lot of work." He had not officially been to his new keep, but had viewed it from a distance on his way to the Amaranthine docks and the boat that brought him to Orlais. Rundown would be his best description of the place.

As the pair approached the gatehouse, a guard stepped out into their path and shouted in Orlesian "Halt, state your name and purpose?"

Being highly fluent in Orlesian, Vallen trotted his horse up closer to the guard and answered formally "Warden Commander Vallen Surana of Ferelden, here on Warden business with Orlais's Commander of the Grey."

The guards eyes widened when he noticed Vallen's epaulettes on his shoulder and offered a hasty salute, and being only a trainee had no knowledge of the Taint from the Joining. "Forgive me ser, I had been expecting an Honour Guard for arrival. I will have someone sent to escort you from the Parade Ground to the Commander right away."

Vallen just nodded towards the guardsmen and he and Leliana carried on into the compounds grounds. The woman couldn't hide the small smile from her face, this respect was a far cry from facing down Loghains henchmen in a Lothering pub.

A well dressed servant elf came out and led them through the building to a large, palatial office at the back of the building, looking out over the courtyard and the city beyond the wall. Vallen couldn't help but notice the envious glances the elf shot him every chance he got, and Vallen couldn't really blame him. As a mage and a Warden, Vallen was considered as an equal to most nobility, both in Ferelden and here in Orlais, something that most elves couldn't dream about. Add to that he had the beautiful Leliana on his arm and he wouldn't be surprised if the man was jealous.

On arriving at the office they were shown in and invited to sit down whilst waiting for Commander to join them. Leliana sat down and Vallen remained standing in front of the desk, admiring the view. After only a few minutes the Commander walked in, dressed in a fine tunic and breaches of embroidered silver on black sporting the double Griffon of the Grey Warden Commander. He was a tall well built man of 6ft, clearly a warrior in his youth and showing no signs of stopping now, with long brown hair shading to grey, showing his advancing years.

Stopping before them he said "Commander, my Lady, may I introduce myself. I am Gilles Decourage, Commander of the Grey here in Orlais. Its an honour to meet you, a Warden who has actually faced down a Blight and survived." he finished by dropping a quick salute then offering his hand to shake.

Vallen stood a clear head shorter and his elven heritage meant he was far slimmer than the humans muscled bulk, but the look in Gilles eyes showed that he was sincere in his admiration. Vallen returned his salute and took the proffered hand, saying "Vallen Surana, Fereldens Commander of the Grey. After the year I've had its good to make it here without having to kill anything."

Gilles burst out with a deep, rumbling laugh, not realising that the last statement was only half meant in jest,Vallen really was glad that he hadn't had to kill anything on his trip to Val Royeaux. Gilles looked over at Leliana as the bard rose to introduce herself.

Vallen spoke up, remembering his manners "this is my companion, Leliana, not a Warden but helped me greatly in defeating the Blight."

Gilles appraised the redheaded woman in a new light "I am impressed, madame, you have fought your way through Darkspawn and continued to look beautiful."

Leliana flashed a quick smile for the man for the flattery and allowed him to kiss her hand.

Gilles straightened and moved around behind his desk before continuing "We have much to discuss Vallen. I hope you don't mind me using your name, but us referring to each other 'Commander' all day could get tedious to say the least, and please, call me Gilles. First however, since we will be discussing the dry facts of restoring the Wardens in Ferelden, my Lady, would you like a tour of Warden House? We also have an old minstrel, Sebastian, who is familiar with all the old Warden stories and will be able to entertain you with such. With your experience maybe you'll even be able to help write new ones concerning the Fifth Blight?"

"Thank you Gilles, that would be lovely."

"Splendid!" and with that, Gilles moved to a bell pull and rung it. Within moments another servant entered, human this time, and led Leliana away on the tour of Warden House.

As Leliana left, Gilles turned to Vallen and simply stated "That woman's a Bard".

"Yes, and a damn good one. I'm glad its me she's with."

Gilles frowned slightly at this "You are aware of what we mean by a Bard here in Orlais? And your glad to have her at your side?"

"I am aware of exactly what a Bard is and our experiences of the last year covered far more than just Darkspawn, of which your Wardens here discovered when prevented from crossing over into Ferelden by that fool, Loghain. I trust her completely." Vallen replied, heat rising in his voice at the implied criticism.

The Orlesian locked eyes with the mage for a few heartbeats before looking away and saying "No offence meant friend, though its almost unheard of for someone to place so much trust in a Bards altruism."

Letting his temper drop away, the elf said "None taken. Should we get to business?"

"Indeed. I would like you to give me an accounting of the Blight, so I can better understand what condition your country is in, and because I like a good tale. But first, tell me, what remains of the Archdemon?"

"Of its carcass, nothing, its body was burnt only a few days after the battle." seeing the crest fallen expression on the old Commanders face prompted Vallen to go on "If, however, you are referring to its blood, then you will be glad to know that I had drained from the body as soon as we had caught our breath after the battle and all of them are currently being preserved magically in the basement of the Tower of Magi, by the same method they use to preserve our phylactery's. I'm glad I remembered that snippet of information about Archdemon blood being important for the Joining ceremony."

"Ahhh, that's good to hear. If we'd had to wait another 400 years for the next Blight, there would have been no Wardens left by then, such is the state of the blood stores in Weisshaupt."

And following that piece of information, Vallen launched into an admittedly staid re-telling of his time as a Warden, he certainly didn't have Lel's talent for story telling, from leaving the Circle Tower to the death of the Archdemon.

* * *

As the sun set once more on Val Royeaux, the mage and bard left Warden House riding side by side, heading back for the small suite of rooms they shared at the inn, discussing how their day went like an old married couple.

"Basically I'm getting 12 Wardens, their support staff and the supplies they can carry with them and they'll be sent out to Alistair in Vigil's Keep within the week."

"I bet he'll be pleased at that" Leliana quipped.

"I doubt he'll be truly pleased until he can get out of Ferelden and head to Weisshaupt Fortress and stop having to look over his shoulder for Anora. Anyway, I'll be having to return to Warden House over the next few days at least. I need to study and learn the spell to prepare the Joining, or there wont be any more Wardens in Ferelden. I was able to meet with their most senior mage, Claude, he tells me its a rather tricky spell and may take a while to get right. He may be right, all my magical development of the last year has been geared towards battle and healing, this alchemical stuff I haven't touched in quite a while." Vallen lamented, knowing that this 'holiday' was going to end up as a lot of work.

"I guess that means I'll have to start the hunt for Marjolaine on my own then." Leliana huffed "I suppose its for the best, you don't exactly blend in to the back streets as it were."

Vallen, attempting to make light of the situation replied "No, if Denerim taught me anything it's that I tend to torch them at the slightest glint of a blade. Useful things, fireballs."

He couldn't hide the expression on his face though, he was worried. The elf didn't doubt Leliana's abilities in a fight, but she had been away from this city for more than 3 years and the specific skills of manipulation and information gathering may be a little rusty. On top of that, she may still be considered a traitor to Orlais in some quarters, something that would definitely court serious trouble.

Leliana caught the expression as he looked ahead, but chose to ignore it. Until she had finished this business with her old mentor and lover, he would have his doubts and keep them private. In truth she knew he had reason, but she also knew that she was one of Val Royeaux's best bards back in the day, and the skill sets so important to surviving that world she lived don't fade overnight.

Changing the subject she said "I was introduced to the old minstrel that the Wardens keep with them, René, and he brought my attention several songs concerning the Wardens and their sacred duty. He even gave me a copy of one concerning an elven hero of the Wardens that went by the name of Garahel, maybe you've heard of him? I shall try it tonight, its a new one for me so I may have a bit of trouble."

Vallen smiled to himself, not answering. Given Lelianas prodigious talent for voice and lute, he knew he was in for a pleasant evening, and what that leads to tends to be quite fun as well, he thought.

* * *

He moved smooth as silk, quietly sliding himself into the small store room on the top floor of the inn by way of the open window and little climbing over roofs. As he gently touched down on the floor he had to suppress a small shudder from a feeling like you get in the back teeth when someone scrapes their nails down a black board, but he couldn't tell what caused it or where it had come from, and it was gone almost as soon as it was felt. He stayed silent and still in his dark grey, hooded cloak and black reinforced leather armour waiting to see what happened, to hear for any signs of movement. Nothing. After a few minutes he began to move once more, quietly gliding up to the door and trying its handle. Not locked. "Good", he thought, "saves time picking the lock." With the door open slightly he peaked through the crack to see the empty hall way. It was all going according to plan.

He continued to move, quickly and silently to the end of the corridor and stopped, leaning against the wall before looking round the corner at the next corridor. No sounds, no movement from the floor boars signalling someone moving around. He had come to the conclusion that he was alone up here. Well, him and his targets. He moved round and approached the third door on his right. This was too easy, but he had never been one to turn down easy money, it kept him in business and meant he could afford to stay alive. As he reached the door he slowly pulled forth his poisened knife, still not wanting to make a sound. The assassin knelt down and checked the lock, which proved open as well. He smiled and thought "Foreigners, they must think themselves safe here in Val Royeaux. Pity."

Silent as death, he moved through the guest room and through to the bedroom, where he knew his targets lay. He could see the bed, two mounds highlighting the sleeping couple that will now never wake up. He slides into the room and advances on the pair, but some sixth sense, for he can see and hear no one about him, gives him a fleeting warning and he dives into a role to his right, away from the wall and the bed. Up he jumps, quick as a cat, but notices the slash in his cloak and so looks at where he came into the room and sees a red headed woman carrying a pair of long daggers and holding a fighting stance. The Silent Man recognises one of his targets and knows this all going south, but maybe it can be salvaged.

He launches straight ahead in a feint and the woman quick steps to her right, but before she can properly gain her footing he moves in again forces her to parry with her left hand blade. He pulls back quickly, knowing his opponent has skill and an extra blade on him. They size each other up for a few seconds and his plans his next move when he feels an explosion of pain in his chest and staggers, or tries to but something is holding his body up. He looks down and sees a finely made sword tip protruding through his ribcage, knowing it had been deftly slid in from the back and missing his ribs. And in that last fleeting moment of life he realises what that feeling was as he came in through the window and knows his mistake, it was a mage's ward he set off, his stealth and careful planing had been wasted, they had known he was coming and were ready for him when he entered the room. But never before had he met a mage that could handle a blade so well. No wander the payment was so high.

Vallen placed his bare foot on the assassins back and pushed, sliding him of his blade. He and Leliana had only just enough time to get their armour and robes and he was rather glad that his newly developed spell of invisibility worked since the footpad had been looking straight at him when he entered, and without his silverite armour he would have been at a serious disadvantage, long sword or no.

"Hmm, maybe I should have just taken the arm and cauterised the wound, we could have questioned him then." Vallen mused.

Leliana looked up and replied "No. Assassins tend to be hired through an intermediary in Val Royeaux, he probably had no idea who he was working for. Besides, I have a pretty good guess as to who was responsible for hiring him though."

"Yeah, Marjolaine, though I would have hoped we got some information of value from him, like a meeting place."

"Again, I don't think that would have helped, payments tend to be left at a collection point for him to go to days from now. Since it will be clear long before then that we are still alive there will be no one to go and place that payment, and no one to ambush. Nobel's playing The Game don't particularly like to have their assassins traced back to them."

Vallen stared at the body thinking, quietly cleaning Starfang with a cloth and then placed it back in his scabbard. The elf looked back to Leliana and said "We're still at square one then, only we've now been put on notice that Marjolaine knows we're here. I'm still going to have to go to Warden House and learn that Joining preparation spell, but I'll help you in this hunt as much as I can, and I'll join you when I'm able."

She just nodded and replaced her daggers. "Lets clear the body, replace the wards and try and get some sleep with what's left of the night. Ohhh, that bloodstain's never going to wash out, that's an expensive carpet now ruined!"

Vallen just smiled and got to work.


	3. Old Memories, New Hunt

Leliana walked into the tavern in the middle of Val Royeaux, wearing her leather armour and carrying her twin daggers, in search of information, and at this point, any scrap of information would have been welcome. It had been four days since the assassin had attacked her and Vallen in their room, and she'd been scouring the city ever since looking for word of her former mentor and lover Marjolaine. But, it seems that the people of Val Royeaux were no longer interested in the master bard who only a few years previously was one of the most talented members of this illustrious, and infamous, profession. In fact, it appeared that her fall from grace was so complete that people weren't even willing to acknowledge she ever existed. This was worrying since Leliana didn't like the idea that she too might have been so thoroughly forgotten as well, though considering how she left the city that might have been a good thing.

She sidled through the crowd to get to the bar and ordered a mug of ale. Though she didn't intend to drink much of the beverage, not least because Orlesian ale in this region was vastly inferior to what she had become used to in Ferelden, the look of the thing helped. Now for the hard part, trying to discern who might have some information that could help, without being too overt in her observations of the room, something that could bring more trouble than the bard wanted.

If truth be told, Leliana was distinctly uncomfortable with the whole process of finding Marjolaine. Not because she had any apprehensions about finding the woman or because she lacked in the subtle skills necessary for the job, on the contrary, she was exceptionally skilled in this department, but because of where she was having to look. When the two worked together, anyone wanting to find the bards would have gone through very different channels, in very different strata of the social hierarchy of Val Royeaux. But the first day of searching had quickly revealed that Marjolaine hadn't moved in those circles for quite some time. Now Leliana was forced into the altogether more disconcerting option of moving through the cities seedy underside. The people she dealt with weren't the problem, it was the fact that they may now be associated with her former master, an incongruous idea to the bard at the best of times as this was a very long way from the woman she had known.

What really got to Leliana was what this said about her, though the thought was barely conscious and she definitely didn't want to look at that too closely while she had a job to do.

Whilst scanning the room she noticed a small group of people in the corner were keeping a not so discrete eye on her, particularly the big man with them. On closer inspection she thought there was something familiar about him, but she couldn't place the feeling. She decided to keep an eye out for them, but turned to the barkeep and asked him a few leading questions. At this point she just wanted to know who was going to be worth her time most in this goose chase. Surprisingly, the answer she eventually got back was the group in the corner. Intrigued, Leliana turned towards them and considered going over to join them but she saw that the youngest of the group, probably younger than Vallen, was already on his way over to her.

Of average height and build with short black hair and grey eyes, he flashed a bright smile and introduced himself as Philippe. Leliana's initial impression was that he was a bit of a dandy, a ladies man, out to get in her small clothes, but since the company he kept would have been the ones with their hands in all the pockets he might be more than he seemed.

"And what brings a lovely young thing like yourself to this corner of Val Royeaux?" Philippe asked.

Leliana raised an eyebrow at his condescension, given that she was more than half a decade older than him, but decided to play the part. "I've been out looking for an old friend of mine, though she's not been making it easy for me."

"Really, well, if you'd like to join us maybe me and my fellows here could be of some assistance." Philippe said, flashing that smile of his again and already starting away beckoning for her to follow.

Leliana hesitated for a second then moved to follow the young man, sliding through the crowd of mostly drunk men, thinking that she had either finally got somewhere or that she was going to be in for another long night. On joining the group at their table she makes a quick assessment of her new drinking companions. The group seemed to be made up of a collection of off duty guards, ranging in age from the youngster Philippe, who seemed no more than 18 winters, to a man who might have been as old as 50. For the most part they were a jovial group, making the most of their lot in life, at least whilst there was ale in front of them. After the introductions were made, with Leliana careful to hide her real name behind the pseudonym of Maria, she joined them in their talk with the intent of learning what she could of them, all the while feeding a fabricated story of how she had come down from the north of the country, near Navarra, in search of a a better, or at least more interesting, life.

By the time they were half way through the second round of drinks Leliana had successfully ingratiated herself to the group, with most of them fully believing her story and that she was enjoying their company. She had already decided that one man, a tall dark and slightly scruffy fellow by the name of Cyril, less talkative than the others but with a seeming wealth of rumour and information when he did speak, was going to prove useful to her as he was definitely the sort to collect such information that the bard was after. All she needed now was a way to get him alone for interrogation, preferably without him realising he was being interrogated. However, she could tell that trouble might be brewing. A tall, thickly built man by the name of Alain had been glowering at her since she walked in through the taverns door, and hadn't said a word since she had joined their group. That spark of recognition was flaring up again and with it alarm bells were ringing. Leliana still couldn't place him, but was beginning to realise that he might recognise her and didn't seem all that happy about it.

The conversation and merry making continued with most the group a long way towards being drunk, except for Leliana and Alain who were keeping a close eye on each other. Eventually, Philippe slid under the table and the others were definitely looking worse for wear but just as Leliana thought she might have a chance to get Cyril alone, Alain suddenly stood up, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Now I remember who you are, you're that traitor bitch that we caught some years passing secrets to the Ferelden dogs. Because of your escape a good friend of mine was executed!" he shouted, gaining the attention of many of the patrons at nearby tables.

As soon as he started talking Leliana froze and her face betrayed the sudden fear she was now feeling. Her mind quickly flashed up images of the beatings and torture she had endured as a prisoner after Marjolaine's betrayal, images she had spent the last three years desperately trying to forget. As Alaine finished his proclamation he drew out a large axe he had been keeping down beside him and out of view. The sight of the naked blade bared before her was all that the bard needed to come back to her senses, and as Alain began to strike down at her with a powerful over head, two handed chop, she immediately brought her feet up and pushed of the table, sending her and the her chair over backwards. As the axe split the table she was already continuing the role to come up on her feet, simultaneously drawing her daggers and landing in a fighting crouch.

"Get her" Alain shouted "I think there's still a bounty on her head".

"By the Maker" Leliana silently cursed, "that's all I need".

Many of those close by were too inebriated to pose much of a threat, but she quickly noticed several further away and around her getting to their feet and drawing weapons. She turned and quickly leaped to the nearest table and began to make her way towards the door, kicking mugs of ale at those close by to distracted them momentarily whilst she made her escape. This seemed to be working but by the fifth table her assailants had had time to organize a bit. Seeing this she leapt down to the floor to be met with a wild charge from a man carrying a short sword. Leliana deftly parried the thrust with her left blade and slashed his sword arm with her right blade. She had no desire to seriously injure someone but wasn't about to let them get the upper hand because she was too hesitant with her own strikes.

Two more came at her trying to work in concert, but proved as equally unskilled as the first man. She parried and dodged their slow and clumsy thrusts and slashes, noticing that their reflexes had been dulled by drink, before levelling her own strikes against them, leaving the man on her left with a torn shoulder and a bloody thigh for the man on her right. After the quick dispatch of those two, no one else was willing to rush in to meet the dangerous bard in battle and so most hung back, giving Leliana a wide berth.

She started making her way towards the door once more but as she neared it Alain made reached it first, brandishing his axe and blocking her way. He stood their making cuts through the air in front of him with his axe, daring Leliana to come on at him. She didn't doubt that she could defeat him easily enough, but as he wasn't close to being tipsy, let alone drunk, she didn't think it would be as quick to dispatch him as the first three had been, and there was always the good chance that the other enemies she had seemed to make this night would see an opportunity to come at her back whilst she was otherwise engaged with Alain.

Stepping back from the dangerous man in front she quickly raised her right arm and flipped the dagger in that hand over so that she was holding the blade. Alain's eyes widened at that and he brought his axe in close, ready to try and deflect her throw, but Leliana turned and launched her blade at the window to her left, shattering the pane of glass and offering another exit. Before the blade had even contacted with the glass she was running and dived headlong through the gap before the glass had even hit the ground outside. She landed hands first, feeling the sharp pain of a shard being pushed into the heel of her left palm, but ignored it and continued into a headlong role and back onto her feet. She dashed forward to the other side of the street to retrieve her dagger and then quickly dashed to her right and down the street, then cut through an alleyway to the adjacent street and dashed to her left before moving through a series of streets and alleys seemingly at random to throw off any pursuit. All the while she was silently cursing her luck over loosing another possible lead with a stream of profanity that would have made an Antivan sailor proud, plus removing the sliver of glass from her left hand hurt like hell.

As Leliana returned to the suite of rooms she shared with Vallen she was tired, annoyed and more shaken than she cared to admit over coming face to face with one of her former jailers. Her walk back had been filed with unwanted images from her past, of her imprisonment and the pain inflicted upon her by her captors, and worst of all images of Marjolaine's betrayal, of setting her up as a traitor, as something she never was.

Vallen looked up from the notes he had been studying as Leliana walked into the room and sat down on a comfortable chair across the room from him. He saw the expression she had on her face, and knew that it had not been a good night.

"Lel, are you OK, what happened out there?" he asked, concern in his voice.

Leliana looked up from her contemplations realising he had asked a question "Err... yes, I'm fine, it's just been another frutrating night".

"Still no leads then?" he asked. To most people that would have been fair enough but Vallen knew Leliana well enough to recognise the signs that she wasn't being completely honest. He wandered what could have happened out there that would have shaken her so much, but decided not to push the matter and let her tell him in her own time.

"No, nothing."

Leliana wasn't sure why she was being so evasive with Vallen over the matter of Alain, but she just couldn't bring herself to voice the confrontation. She had no wish to relive the terrible memories she held and knew that she wouldn't be able to stop with her tale of what happened to her after she was caught, detailing the tortures she went through. She trusted Vallen and had already shared much of the details of her life with him already, but still she just couldn't muster the courage to tell him.

Leliana had made her way down to the dockside of Val Royeaux, probably the one area in the city that was more disreputable than where she was the previous night, but at least it was on the other side of the city from the trouble that had kicked off. It was only late afternoon but she thought it would be better to set up early and see who comes in this time rather than start looking in a room full of people halfway to being drunk.

The tavern she had picked was sporting the charming name of _The Pitch Wife _and was the typically grimy sort of place that you would expect at the docks with floor rushes that looked like they had never been changed, dirty bottles behind the bar and shoddily repaired furniture that looked like it had seen a fight or twenty, but was thankfully largely empty except for the usual suspects that exist solely to prop up bars all over Thedas. She ordered a drink and moved to a table in the corner where she could get a good view of the room and the patrons without being immediately spotted by those coming in.

And so she sat and waited, drinking slowly and watching the few people that were partaking of the establishment's hospitality, waiting for someone that looked and sounded like they had an ear to the streets. It was a long wait, well into the evening, before someone walked in that looked like he might be of help, and it was a familiar face at that.

As the newcomer made his way to the bar, Leliana got up and moved to join him, turning to him as she got there.

"Bonny Lem, what a nice surprise to see you here" she said.

"Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't Leliana. Talk about surprises, I never thought I'd see you here in this city again! What are you doing here?"

"Tell you what, I'll buy you a drink and you can come join me and we'll reminisce about old times and I'll tell you what I'm doing here, OK?"

They collected their drinks and made their way back over to Leliana's table. As they sat down Lem started off.

"Last time I saw you was three years ago in that chantry in Ferelden, what you been up to since?"

"I spent two years in that chantry as a Lay Sister, the piece and quiet gave me a chance to think a lot of things through, sorting out the changes to my life, then the Blight happened."

Lem winced at that last part "Heard about that, nasty business a Blight, hope you got out of the way fast."

"Actually, I joined with the Wardens to help them put an end to the Blight, spent most of the last year traipsing around Ferelden helping to put together an army and put down Darkspawn. In fact, I'm still travelling with one of them, their commander as we're now partners." Leliana hadn't meant to include that last part but it was good to be talking to an old friend again.

"Partners eh, would that be partners in business... or otherwise..." Lem asked. Leliana just arched an eyebrow and gave one of her coy smiles back.

Lem just laughed at that and proclaimed "Ahhhh Leliana, always at the heart of things, I should have known."

They continued passing pleasantries between themselves for some time and Leliana was truly enjoying herself, but she had a reason for keeping him in a good mood as it would help to loosen his tongue when she started to ask about Marjolaine. After she brought in another round of drinks she decided it was time to broach the subject.

"So tell me Lem, what happened to Marjolaine after we parted ways, so to speak?"

Bonny Lem instantly sobered up at that and his face instantly took on a guarded expression "Now why would you want to go and open up old wounds like that? I would have thought you'd have been glad to see the back of her."

"And I was, but less than a year ago she came after me with assassins and had specifically come to Ferelden to see the job done. Obviously, she failed, and I found her in Denerim. Me and my companions were too much for her to defeat, but rather than kill her I let her go."

"And now you want to kill before she comes after you again." Lem surmised.

"No. I didn't like the way it ended between us. I don't believe she has to die and I don't believe that I have to turn her into a 'good' person, but the last I saw her she was... self destructive... and I believe she could do a lot of damage, to herself, to me and to my friends. I want to end this obsession and paranoia that she has about me, so please Lem, tell me what you know about her."

Lem sat back and considered Leliana and all she had said. Despite his suspicious mind he couldn't help but believe her, after all the bard always had a kind heart like this, or she would never have fallen foul of Marjolaine in the first place.

He leaned forward and said "OK, but you heard nothing from me, yeah."

"I returned to Orlais about three months after you first finished with Marjolaine and decided to join that cloister, and she was already here ahead of me. Now, obviously I kept my distance from her, what with our history and everythin', but it didn't take long for a lot of mutterings to start up about her, first from other bards and mercs that would be associated with her and then even from the cliental. Seems that she was rather distracted, like she had a lot on her mind, maybe a certain red head perhaps? It doen't matter, within six months nobody would work with her, her obsession made her paranoid and that made her very difficult to work with as she started getting in everybody's way and holding them back, and it made her sloppy so he began failing tasks more often than not. In the end nobody would work with her and nobody would hire her."

Leliana gapped at this news, she was surprised how quickly Marjolaine had fallen apart, especially given the confident, efficient, ruthless and, when necessary, pragmatic woman that she had known. Despite all that had happened, on some level Leliana still held feelings for Marjolaine, mostly out of nostalgia, but also from a sense of hope that maybe she could help the woman she once loved become something better, though they would never be friends again. Given this, the new information about Marjolaine and her quick social descent assaulted the bard's sensibilities; however, she knew she needed to know more "So what happened after that, how was she able to put together a group of assassins to come after me?"

"Well" Lem said, getting into his role of story teller despite his initial hesitance "Marjolaine had enough sense in her to know when she'd hit bottom, as she started taking on these one man jobs. You know the kind, they don't pay much and for someone of her skills they wouldn't have proven much of a challenge, but it was all she could get and, working on her own, she was able to get the jobs done. In fact, it didn't take her too long to start looking like her old self again and people started to take notice as well, to the point where one of your old patrons hired her on. Small time work mostly, but she was back in the fold, so to speak. She carried on this way for about a year or so, stayed clear of her old social circles, or most social circles for that matter, but we knew she was about and doing jobs for someone. Never did find out exactly who though, just that it was an old patron.

"Anyway, a little more than a year ago, just after we got word of the death of King Cailen, she's seen hiring up a bunch of mercenaries and gets on a boat to Ferelden. Don't here a thing for a couple months and then she turns up on her own, without much in the way of possessions, and distinctly out of it. She's been virtually in the gutter ever since."

Leliana sat back and stared at her mug, trying to take in all that she'd heard. "I can't believe she could so collapse like that!"

"Yeah, well, if you ask me she was always far too proud of herself anyway. I think the fact that you beat her at her own game, twice it seems, and let her live both times, and this after she had you framed, locked up and set for a long, slow and painful death, didn't sit at all well with her. She was never one for mercy, and trained you to be the same; I don't think she could get her head around the whole concept, particularly with her new found paranoia after you escaped. Late night visits are not something she wants." said Lem.

The bard took it in, Lem's insights into other people had always proven useful, it was why he was such a good business man, and now it gave her a lot to think on. However, she had one more question for him. "Where is she now?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Now that's the question. After word reached us that the Blight was finished, she disappeared, no one knows anything about what happened. However, there is a rumour that she was spotted on the road travelling to Montsimmard just over a month ago. Maker alone knows what she wanted there, as cities go its a bit provincial, definitely not to her tastes."

"Montsimmard, that's a long way round on the Highway." Leliana noted.

"Yeah, if it weren't for the lack of crossings on the Foret and Celestine Rivers it would be quicker to just cross through the Heartlands, but you'll have to go all the way round Lake Celestine to get there, should take a while." Lem answered.

Leliana stood up, then leaned over and gave Lem a kiss on the cheek, putting a smile on the mans face in the process. "You're a good friend Lem, thank you" she said.

"Any time Lel, anytime."

Leliana made her way back to the suite of rooms she shared with Vallen. At last, she had found a lead, shaky as it may be, for Marjolaine, but all she had learned about her former bard master from Bonny Lem left her a little shaken. She knew that circumstance and the last vestiges of her youthful innocence were all that separated her from Marjolaine on that fateful night in the Arl of Denerims estate four years ago. And the more she thought about it, the more she realised that Lem was probably right, that the life of a bard, immersed in intrigue, espionage and murder, where those who are not at the absolute peak of awareness and readiness would be killed by those who are, was likely the cause of Marjolaine's mental breakdown. When mercy is a foreign concept that has no place in your life and is a sign of weakness, were none can be tolerated, how do you deal with it when its offered to you?

That train of thought took her down an unsettling rout, that perhaps it was a good thing she was betrayed, that it prevented her becoming a callous killing machine with no thought for anything but her own skin and the depth of her pockets.

She stopped just up the street from the inn, digesting the new idea. Was the pain worth it? Her body carried many scars from the whips, knives and many more creative implements that were put to use on her. More than that, the scars that couldn't be seen were the ones that took longest to heal. Maybe they haven't all healed yet? Leliana remembered waking up in the dungeon, cold, naked, alone and very afraid with the one memory that should have brought her some measure of comfort, that of her capable lover, being now that of her betrayer and leaving her in a depression of self loathing and hatred.

But it had brought her to the chantry in Lothering where she found two years of quite reflection to start healing her wounds. More importantly, it had got her out of the existence of being a bard, something she had begun to realise, prompted by the difficulty in finding anything about one of the cities former great bards in the last few days, as actually a rather empty way to live her life, always looking over her shoulder and never trusting anyone for anything. It was becoming clear to her that if she had stayed as a bard she would have ended up as an empty shell, with no real friends or loves (well, maybe shopping) and survival and riches, plus the dubious joys of others misery, would be all that she had left. And of course, if she had never been to that chantry, she would never have met Vallen, her love; an elf she trusted implicitly, who she knew was not capable of betraying her in the same vicious fashion as Marjolaine.

No, maybe it wasn't a good thing exactly, the emotional and physical pain were together almost beyond endurance, but it was necessary for her to find the life of meaning she had lived the past year or so. Leliana still fervently believed that her vision was sent by the Maker, so perhaps He wanted her to go through the painful transition to be there to meet the Warden in Lothering and help stop the Blight. Or maybe it was just coincidence that she was there when the Blight started and was the most obvious of choices to except that vision, being the only none-Templar in the cloister to have any kind of experience with weapons. The former thought brought her comfort, as it gave all her suffering reason, but the rational part of her brain considered that the latter was more likely.

The bard heaved a sigh and continued on to her suite of rooms, knowing that as important as her realisations were to her, without coming face to face with Marjolaine, it would probably all be nothing but hot air.

As she entered the rooms she shared with Vallen she found him lounger on a chaise comforter, reading a book that, judging by its Tevinter script on the cover, was probably about magic.

Vallen looked up as she drew closer and sat down beside him, asking her "Any luck with the search today?"

"It would seem so, I came across an old associate of mine today and he told me of a rumour that Marjolaine is in Montsimmard, its the closest anyone has come to seeing or hearing from her since the end of the Blight."

"Montsimmard, a small city to the south west, yes?"

"Mmmmm... Time for a little trip, no? As soon as you finished at the Warden House anyway." Leliana replied.

"Then we can begin preparations tomorrow, I've finished with the studies and can accurately perform the preparation spells for the joining ceremony now, and the group of Wardens along with a fair few supplies are off to join Alistair at Vigils Keep as we speak."

"Then Montsimmard it is." Said Leliana, whilst sharing a small smile with Vallen.


End file.
